Real Gents
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Ironically, the health food campaign comes a cropper. Suddenly I am a jailor on death row with my life set to 24 hour egg watcher, anything to stop him from grabbing the salt cellar and emptying it down his gullet. Maybe it's the shapeliness, or the pastel colours, but something has revived his need for sodium chloride. Inevitably my back is turned on one or other whilst I use my best extraction services.
I spend an inordinate amount of time chasing him all over the house. As he runs he chants his new mantra, 'you've got mail, you've got mail, you've got mail,' with more animation and expression than I could ever have imagined. When I pin him down to pry open his grinning jaws and sniff for evidence, he responds with his alternative mantra, “greased lightning!” and a chortle. It occurs to me that I have a missed career opportunity as a tracker dog. I also regret refilling the container, twice. I'm tempted to empty it down the sink to refill with castor sugar but I believe that would constitute cruel and unusual punishment.
When I find the empty 16 ounce carton of raisins I realize that what with “one thing” and “several others,” that my supervisory skills are overwhelmed. I examine the potential candidates for tell tale signs. Which one is the guilty party? I have far too much choice. I consider the effect of 16 ounces of dried fruit upon the average digestive system but I have no hard data to rely upon.
Several hours later.
Post play dates, I have one child to collect. I work backwards to allow us to arrive on time with an allowance for the unexpected. We prepare to depart an hour in advance. Two boys.
I hear a small bleat from the bathroom.
From this particular child, it is the kind of bleat that doesn't really register, since volume control is generally off the scales. It is hard to find a suitable comparison. It's the kind of 'tsk' noise one might make on finding a piece of fluff on clothing. A quick flick and it's gone, of no consequence.
The bleat does not match the scene of devastation. I inadvertently squeak which brings his brother running in to observe, “what happen?” he asks unnecessarily as his eyes pop out on stalks. It is still a very small bathroom with very little room for manovres. It is difficult to know where to begin, so I make a start.
Once again I have cause to doubt my purchasing powers. Why did I buy the four pack of 16 oz raisins for $10 but shun the bargain of 32 oz bottle of liquid soap for $5.00?
My brain calculates other calculations. Is it safe to assume that this is the result of a raisin overdose or is that too many assumptions. Which is worse? Ask the play date host parent to return your child, even thought that wasn't the original plan or take a child with an unstable digestive system into the car to their home to collect your other child? Is it o.k. if the wobbly child remains in the car at a safe distance? Is this o.k. if I can guarantee no contact and keep the windows wound up? Is any of the later acceptable assuming that the said child can be sanitized and dressed prior to departure? Is it possible to sanitize and dress the child prior to departure, and myself? Where is Miss Manners when I need her?
I contemplate the play date host, a man with shared custody and a complicated life. There are many families with complicated lives. I suspect that there are also a few families without any complications, somewhere? The common feature of most families, is their share of happiness, complicated or otherwise. I hear the front door slam to announce the arrival of the cavalry, my eldest daughter. I explain. “No probs, you go, I'll be on bum watch.”
Horray! One less mind numbing decision to make.
I drive with careful speed to pull into their driveway where I meet 4 happy girls and a happy father with culinary skills, a blue tooth and a foreign accent.
But I would never be one to summarize a single dad in brief.
It seems to me that there are “dads” all over the “place,” both “chaps” and “chapesses” that ‘get it.’
Maybe I should add a poll? What would be the correct thing to do in such circumstances if the cavalry hadn't arrived? You never know, you might be next, on one end or the other of the toilet plunger?
August 31st, 2008 at 5:03 am
oh my goodness. honey i seriously have to have a nap after reading all you have to do! bless his little heart…
smiles, bee
xoxoxoxoxoxooxxoxo
August 31st, 2008 at 6:47 am
Can’t stop laughing at the image you’ve placed in my head. Maybe because I don’t have to clean it up? And a big shout-out to your daughter, the bum-watcher. You must be such a proud mother!
August 31st, 2008 at 8:45 am
The only “silver lining” I can see here other than your oldest daughter coming home is that the attack of the 16-oz raisans occurred while you were still at home and not in the car heading down the road. Somehow I think that might have been infinitely worse.
This post just begs the question though – is anything in your life ever easy?!?
August 31st, 2008 at 8:57 am
Oh my, this reminds me of a funny story my MIL tells about one of her friends, a movie, and a box of prunes. I feel your pain and rejoice in the timing of your daughter!
Not sure what I would have done, either, had the cavalry not arrived. Whew!
August 31st, 2008 at 9:47 am
Ok, does it make me a bad person that I laughed, and didn’t stop laughing, the moment you said that somebody had clandestinely eaten a pound of raisins? I already suspected that said person would remain anonymous for only so long. . . . .
We have a certain amount of experience with fructose overload around here, sadly. I hope that you have some cleaning service on speed dial, and that consumptions will all even out soon.
As for the parent trap you describe, I would have been on the phone saying that we’d had a little accident, and couldn’t get out of the house. I would have given the other parent a choice: I can either be there in about an hour when I get this disaster cleaned up, or you can bring her home. Which is less disruptive for you? And, given that they are also parents, I’d figure that they could understand the situation was not my fault.
August 31st, 2008 at 9:49 am
raisins and salt…….. once Charlie helped himself to an entire jar of pickles, with similar results as you describe. Small bathrooms have the great advantage of less to clean!
Thanks heavens your reinforcement appeared!
August 31st, 2008 at 11:31 am
Wow, I was worrying there for a moment. So glad your daughter came in at the right time. I probably (depending on the age of the child) would have *gasp* left the mess in the bathroom, jammed him into a pull-up, and driven over to pick the play date child up. But then, I make wrong choices all the time.
We’ve had similar problems with chocolate consumption.
August 31st, 2008 at 11:34 am
all I have to say better you found out at home than on the way there! UGH! We had a devastating vomiting incident in my company car about 2 weeks ago, and it wasn’t pretty! Thank goodness your daughter came home, but I think you did the right thing not taking him out (God only knows how awful he felt). I supposed you could have requested a sleep over if necessary!
So, would you say raisins in bulk could help if one is constipated?
August 31st, 2008 at 12:19 pm
That’s a tough one! Reminds me of the time my then-3-year-old split his chin open requiring a trip to the doctor’s, and I had to bring along my autistic 5-year-old. It is impossible to hold two flailing, screaming children when one of them is getting stitches!
Three cheers for your daughter for arriving when she did and helping out!
August 31st, 2008 at 1:50 pm
Whew! Glad your daughter saved the day on that one!
August 31st, 2008 at 3:23 pm
Motherhood…whew. Mine is dealing with his friends next door moving away today….less messy for sure! (Though now that he knows someone who is divorcing and apparently never thought of it before he has something to add to his worries.)
August 31st, 2008 at 7:07 pm
Lucky you that the cavalry arrived just in the nick of time. Having no cavalry around would have made for a very difficult situation to figure out. I might have pressed my luck and grayed my hair a little more in the process (and perhaps dirtied my hands!) or I might have called and prayed for the understanding of the other parent. That’s a tough one indeed. Kudos to the bum watcher!
September 1st, 2008 at 6:45 am
Between my own children’s new desire for sodium chloride and the phrase you’ve mentioned, “You’ve got mail!” um… has there been Blue’s Clues exposure? Because my boys have taken to seizing salt shakers, proclaiming them “Mr. Salt!” and then attempting to dump the contents into their open mouths. Ack!
September 1st, 2008 at 4:48 pm
Good thing your daughter showed up when she did! I would have probably been a basket case. There are few substances that really send me over the edge. I’m having flashbacks of toilet training and shuddering. Glad everything worked out well!